


The Aftermath And The Fallout

by liquid_dreams



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: At least Jonny tries, Biting, M/M, Slow Build, Spoilers, Turn Choice, Vampires being vampires, compared to his own maker, the Blind Leading the Blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquid_dreams/pseuds/liquid_dreams
Summary: Jonathan turned Mccullum in a fit of spite (mostly). Then he has to deal with the results, but it's not all that bad.





	The Aftermath And The Fallout

It wasn't raining outside for once. Jonathan Reid decided to use the early hours of the night to dedicate himself to his research. He was trying to find a cure for a particular condition that befell one of his patients. To that end he'd assembled various chemicals and botanicals on his cluttered worktable, turned on the bunsen burner and set to work. After several fruitless attempts to mix ferrous tartrate with crushed digitalis root he thought he was onto something when there was a heavy thump on the balcony. It wasn't a balcony per se, lacking a railing and all. More like a small wooden platform to shadow step on when he came home from his nightly rounds through town. A short-cut in essence, for when his appearance was too unseemly for the hospital staff and patients. 

Jonathan didn't allow his concentration to waver when the liquid bubbling in the alembic began to change its color from clear to light green. His work was important and he'd always taken pride in being one of the pioneers of modern medicine. The war had been an unexpected opportunity to develop and field test his blood transfusion technique without the added burden of accountability or ethical restrictions. So long as not too many of his patients ended up dying the higher ups let him do as he pleased. It was a neccessary step to developing a method to save many more lives than were lost in his experiments. Jonathan firmly believed that he'd done the right thing. In the same vein, he believed that he was doing the right thing when he played around with the recipes for the medicines he administered. He turned up the heat, keeping his eyes fixed on the mixture as he watched it begin to bubble more violently in response. 

There was a telltale whooshing noise as somebody shadow stepped behind him. He heard erratic breathing and two unsteady steps before he was beset by a pair of rough, calloused hands. He grit his teeth when a heavy, muscular body collided against his and nearly rattled the table. A rack of empty glass vials shook with a shrill, alarming noise before he gripped the edge of the table to steady it. He didn't even need to activate his vampiric senses to know who dared to bother him at this hour. Rough hands began to tug at the collar of his shirt before they slid around him in the impatient, careless mockery of a hug in order to get at the buttons. Jonathan let out a quiet sigh and gingerly uncorked a vial filled with sodium hypochloride. 

"Careful, this is very delicate work," he said aloud. 

The hands didn't still, busy as they were undoing the first two buttons of his dress shirt. Once their task was complete they yanked the cloth to the side, revealing the pale curve of his left shoulder. Jonathan quickly corked the bottle and set it down after drawing a small spoon of the liquid. He dumped it into an empty glass jar and winced lightly when a mouth full of sharp teeth clamped down on his shoulder, digging deep into the muscle. He turned his head to the side to frown admonishingly at his progeny, who also happened to be his self-proclaimed arch nemesis and once-quite-possibly-still hunter. The man's dark brown hair looked messy unlike its usual neatly gelled back state. His bright blue eyes were hazy and unfocused, giving him a rather feverish appearance. 

"Ah," said Jonathan in a tone of quiet understanding. 

He hadn't fed yet. It had been a while since Jonathan turned Mccullum. Two nights at least. He raised a brow at the way the man's teeth remained fiercely lodged in his shoulder. He wasn't drinking. 

"What are you doing, Mccullum?" He asked.

The man glared up at him without deigning to answer. Jonathan met his glare for several moments before he remembered his experiment and hastily turned his attention back to the worktable. He quickly dimmed the heat and checked the alembic for signs of condensed liquid. Vapor was beginning to travel through the delicate glass pipe into a copper chamber. It was a fascinating spectacle that almost distracted him enough to miss the fact that Mccullum drew a miniscule amount of blood from his shoulder. When he realized what was happening his head whipped around to stare at the hunter in disbelief. 

"A fellow vampire's blood won't sate your hunger. You need human blood. Or rat," he added, which earned him a disgusted look from the hunter. 

Still, the hunter's eyes fluttered shut and he began to drink more deeply. Jonathan didn't particularly mind as he had vast reserves of blood after shedding his reservations about drinking from the living. And some rats. Occasionally. Mccullum was truly remarkable. Jonathan all too clearly remembered when he was freshly turned. When he'd woken up in that stinking pit full of corpses he'd been nearly blind and deaf with hunger. He couldn't focus on anything other than the lure of fresh, warm blood. It was so overpowering and all-consuming that he laid hands on his own beloved sister. The fact that Mccullum had not only resisted draining the first human he found -which would've doubtlessly been one of his own men- for two entire nights, but also dragged himself through the streets of London to find him without giving in was absolutely amazing. It only confirmed that he made the right choice. Jonathan picked up a pair of prongs and removed the vial from its holder over the flame. Now dark green, he set it aside to let it cool. His movements were somewhat restricted by the heavy man clinging onto him. It would be comical if he wasn't trying to create a completely new medicine to revolutionize the market. 

A light melodic chuckle made him pause and look around, but there was no one there. Jonathan blinked before he recognized the presence in his head as his maker. 

'How interesting. What a remarkable creature you have made your progeny.'

'He's alright,' Jonathan thought and winced when one of those sharp teeth hit a nerve. 'A bit clingy.'

'I assure you: Had I been there at the scene of your resurrection, you would have been the same.'

'Surely not!' Jonathan thought indignantly.

The hands shifted to hold him more securely in the hunter's embrace. At the same time he felt a wet tongue trail up the side of his neck. Jonathan felt his hackles rise and peeed down at the hunter, who sported glazed eyes and an absent expression that was utterly at odds with his usual sneer. And yes, that was his tongue laving his neck. Right before he bit down viciously. Jonathan winced and put on a tortured expression.

'What in god's name is he doing?'

'Ah, you will find no god here or inbetween you. A sire's blood is like ambrosia to the newborn fledgeling. It is full of power and the more lives you have drained, the richer the bouquet.'

Jonathan turned his gaze back down at the hunter, whose eyes had closed. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Jonathan glanced longingly at his bookcase across the room. He really should write the formula down before he forgot. 

"Mccullum, I would really appreciate it if you stopped." 

No response. He let out an aggravated sigh and moved to walk towards his bookcase, more or less dragging the hunter behind. He heard the screech of leather boots across the wooden floor. Jonathan picked out his most recent journal and headed over to a lone armchair. Mccullum still wasn't letting go. 

"Come on, let go already. There is no way my blood tastes that good," Jonathan said in the most stern tone he could muster. 

Mccullum's eyelids fluttered and he made a vaguely protesting noise. He rolled his eyes heavenwards.

'What do I do?!'

'As his sire, you do hold a certain amount of power over him. I would suggest compelling him.'

'How?'

There was predictably no response as his capricious maker was probably already bored of him. Jonathan cursed silently. 

"Mccullum. I order you to stop drinking from me immediately!" He said. "I command it as your maker!"

With a deep groan the hunter slowly relented and withdrew. His lips were stained red and blood ran down his chin. He looked befuddled and blinked slowly. Jonathan felt relieved when he saw that his blue eyes were still clear and the scleras white and could not say why. After a few beats the hunter seemed to come to and his trademark scowl came back full force. He practically jumped away from Jonathan and crossed his arms with a furious expression.

"What kind of trickery is this?!" He bellowed. "What have you done to me, leech?!"

"I?" Jonathan raised a brow and pointed his thumb at his neck. "I have done nothing. It was you who assailed me in my own home."

If vampires could blush, Mccullum's face would certainly have been red. As it was he merely looked contrite and pressed his lips together. Was he avoiding his gaze? Really? Jonathan blinked and lowered his arm. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore when the hunter abruptly shoved past him without another word, moving so swiftly he could be mistaken for a fleeing man. As he was a man of science his brain demanded answers. Jonathan grabbed the hunter's arm and forced him to stop. 

"Mccullum, stay. Explain yourself."

"Don't fucking touch me!" Mccullum bellowed with a spooked expression. 

Jonathan trailed his eyes over the man. He looked tense, almost shaken. So he'd lost control after all? Was that the source of his discomfort? Jonathan shifted and relaxed his stance in an effort to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. He gestured at the armchair opposite his.

"Stay. Let's talk. You must have questions."

Mccullum's icy blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I want no part in it. This never happened. Next time we meet, I'll-!"

He was getting tired of his posturing. Jonathan took one big step towards him and saw him tense.

"I understand what you're going through better than anyone else in this city, Geoffrey. You need not suffer through it alone, as I have."

"You- you bewitched me! Turned me into a fucking monster!" The hunter scowled fiercely. "Now you think I want your help? No, Dr. Reid. You've done enough."

"Fine then," Jonathan sighed and turned around abruptly. "Have it your way."

Something was bothering him, though. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Jonathan rubbed his beard and frowned thoughtfully. What was he missing? Almost incidentally he heard a shaky exhale behind him. Was he frightened of him? No, certainly not. Mccullum was a man entirely dispossessed of fear. It was one of the traits he admired the most in him. 

"Hh. Damn leech," Mccullum muttered under his breath. "Why.."

Jonathan recreated his image before his mind's eye and went over every detail again. He sat down on the chair and opened his journal to the last page he'd written. Something he's missed. Something that wasn't right about Mccullum. His eyes widened when he got it. The journal dropped from his lap and hit the floor with a thunk. Jonathan was thunderstruck as he slowly looked up at the disgruntled hunter still standing defiantly in his hideout. It was less prominent now, but he definitely had an erection. His gaze snagged on the bulge in his trousers. A weird mixture of emotions strangled his chest. How absolutely unheard of! This was not something he ever expected to experience in polite (somewhat) society! It was something he distinctly recalled from the trenches on the continent, the shadows between tents as they recovered from the battles and losses of the day. A great way to relieve the stress and horror of a massive, brutal war. Jonathan knew himself and what he liked. The same could not be said of the soldiers who used sloppy little tumbles to fuck the pain away. The war had taught him many lessons and one of them was that if your interests differed from the norm, you'd best hide them well. When he turned Mccullum he'd broken his own unspoken rule. It had been a spur of the moment decision, the culimination of their every interaction. He only knew he could not allow that man to wither and die. Jonathan briefly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Come here," he murmured and made a feeble beckoning gesture with his free hand. 

"Like hell!" Mccullum barked, as expected. 

"Geoffrey," he muttered softly, insistently. 

"It's not what you think!" He sounded desperate, as if he was trying to convince himself as well. "It's because of the blood. This has nothing to do with you, Dr. Reid!"

"So you want my blood, is that it?" Jonathan let out a small bitter chuckle and reached up to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt. 

"What- what are you doing?!" Mccullum stared at him as he revealed his pale, toned chest. 

"Come, hunter. You need to feed more if you want to last out there. I know you won't drink from a human. Not yet."

"Not ever!"

"Then use me. It's only fair," he said and slid out of the sleeves. 

"Use you?" Mccullums eyes kept straying to his chest and neck. "Really, Reid?"

"You could also feast on the many rats infesting this city, but I suspect you won't find their blood as.. stimulating."

Mccullum swallowed and grit his jaw. Oh, but he was beautiful when he was desperate. Jonathan could slap himself for not realizing it sooner. His attraction to the man was not only of an intellectual nature. He relaxed back in his chair and made a beckoning gesture. 

"Come, then," he coaxed. "Or would you rather feast on your men?"

"No," Mccullum grit out with a dark look and took a step towards him. "Never. I'll never be like you!"

"I was hoping you'd say that," Jonathan admitted softly and allowed a small smile to play over his lips. 

"Oh, so you do have a conscience, huh?" Mccullum sneered, even as he came to a stop before him. "Feeling sorry at last for all the lives you took, leech?"

"I do not take joy in their deaths, Mccullum. I did what I had to do in order to become stronger. The threat facing this city cannot be defeated so easily."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He bent down to glare at his face. "Your justification?"

Jonathan reached up and seized the front of his shirt. It was surprisingly easy to pull him down to his level. He crushed their mouths together like he had done once before. This time, though, Mccullum had the power to fight back. He wound one of his hands into Jonathan's immaculately styled hair, the other gripped his shoulder. When he pulled back there was a gleam in his eyes. 

"Well then, leech. I'll take you up on that offer." 

Jonathan closed his eyes when he bit down on his shoulder and drank deeply. This had been the correct choice. Mccullum would be glorious. He'd been a formidable enemy as a man, he'd be an even greater threat as a vampire. Especially with how he swore to keep on hunting vampires with or without the Guard. Yet he couldn't bring himself to regret a thing. 

"The world needs men like you, Mccullum," Jonathan spoke quietly. "I could not bear the thought of watching you age and die. It would have been a terrible waste."

The grip in his hair tightened painfully and pulled his head even further to the side. As much of an answer as he expected. He decided not to indulge him in the rest of his jumbled reasons and justifications for taking his humanity away. Not before he could make sense of it himself. They would have time, he told himself. All the time in the world.


End file.
